


Five Conversations Aboard the Millennium Falcon

by EllieL



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Conversations, F/M, Friendship, Hopefully tropey in a tribute kind of way and not in a ripoff kind of way, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Moments, References canon violence, Super tropey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-15 17:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18078098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: Five moments on the Falcon between Han & Leia, at times we didn't see during the OT





	1. Escape I

Adrenaline faded, fires were put out, and coordinates for the Rebel base were programmed into the navicomputer. He sat back in the pilot’s chair for a moment, letting the glow of hyperspace bathe his face while he turned over the events of the day in his mind. Two days ago he’d blown out of Mos Eisley with a kid and an old man on an easy run to Alderaan--a safe system!--for the promise of a hefty payout. Now he was on the edge of Rebellion entanglement, the old man dead and an Imperially imprisoned princess somewhere aboard. Payment for her rescue would hopefully surpass what the old man had promised him, maybe even be enough to pay back Jabba.   
  


He’d urged both Luke and the Princess to get some rest as they had 18 hours until reaching Yavin. The kid had moped off almost before Han had finished speaking, but she hadn’t even looked up from her cup of kaffe as he made his way back to the cockpit. That was an hour ago, and now he was thinking he wouldn’t mind getting some rest himself.   
  


As he made his way back through the hold, he found her still seated at the dejarik table, hands wrapped around what appeared to be the same mug she’d been pondering earlier. He paused, studying her for a moment; she didn’t seem to notice him. He took two loud steps into the main hold, trying to step on the spots he usually avoided, deliberately rattling the deck plates and scuffing a toe, announcing his presence.   
  


“Princess?”    
  


She still jumped at the sound of his voice, eyes widening a bit. But subtly, seeming as well practiced in not reacting as a veteran sabacc player.  _ Where did this girl come from?  _ He hadn’t been able to school his own face as well the day he won this ship.   
  


“You all right?”   
  


A short, sharp nod seemed almost an automatic response. “I’m fine, thank you Captain.”   
  


He studied her for another moment before responding, noting her still, self-aware posture, her interlaced, white-knuckled fingers. He nodded a bit, maybe more to himself than for her, and sat down on the far side of the table, facing her.    
  


“Han. The Imps had you for a couple days?”   
  


She nodded again, stiffly, saying nothing.   
  


“I got booted outta the Academy.” A flicker of something came across her face then, wide eyes meeting his for the first time. “I got some experience with how they treat folks they’re...unhappy with.”   
  


Her nod of response was slower then, still measured, and she maintained eye contact for a few seconds before looking down at the hand she unwrapped from the mug. His eyes followed her gaze, noted the tremor running through her digits.   
  


“Could just be the adrenaline wearing off,” he offered, knowing it wasn’t, a vain attempt at reassurance.    
  


“Or it could be the nerve agents.”   
  


“Yeah.” He frowned. “Don’t know that I got much aboard that can help with that, but if you want, I can run a scan for you, see what’s going on.”   
  


“Anything would help.” It came out in a single exhalation of resignation.   
  


For just a second, he rested his hand over her shaky one on the tabletop, before moving away. “Lemme get the scanner.”   
  


When he returned, she hadn’t moved, still staring down at her hand splayed on the checkered tabletop. Sitting the med kit on the table broke her reverie, and she watched silently as he unpacked the scanner from it.    
  


“All right, your Highness--”   
  


“Leia. Please.”   
  


He smiled a little. “Leia. I’ll assume you’re a little banged around and have some bruising, so I’m not going to bother setting it for that, or I’ve got a feeling you’d be scrolling through those results for hours before getting to anything useful.”   
  


“Probably true.”   
  


“Okay.” He calibrated the scanner, and pointed it at her. Before results could pop up on the screen, he handed it to her.   
  


With a quizzical look, she took it from him.    
  


“I wouldn’t want some stranger looking at my scan results.” He shrugged, digging into the box in front of him. “What do you need?”   
  


Her breath caught a little as her eyes scanned down the screen. “Not much you’re likely to have on hand. Methocarb, if you have it? Beyond that, unfortunately I think I’ll have to visit the base’s med center.”   
  


“Yeah, we got some of that. Two?”   
  


“Three?”    
  


It must have been worse than she was letting on, because that was a Chewie dosage, but he wasn’t about to argue with her now, merely sorted through the bottles til he found the right one.   
  


“You don’t need any bone knitters or anything?”   
  


She shook her head ferociously, and quickly snatched the proffered pills. “No! No. Just these, and maybe I’ll try lying down after all.”   
  


He studied her for a second, then tipped his head towards the ring corridor. “Take the main cabin. Third door down. Otherwise Chewie’s snoring’ll keep you up.”   
  


“That’s really not--”   
  


“Have you heard a Wookiee snore?”   
  


She shook her head.   
  


“Sleeping through it is an acquired skill. One of many I’ve got.” He managed to restrain himself from winking at her, but couldn’t help the bit of a smirk that slipped across his face.   
  


Her lips quirked into something approaching a smile, but she seemed to bite back the first words that came to her. Instead she stood, then merely offered, “Thank you, Han” as she slipped away down the hallway.

*


	2. After Midnight

Life as a smuggler had led to him being an incredibly light sleeper. It took a moment for him to identify what had woken him this time, in his dim, usually-peaceful berth on the Falcon. Then, from the berth across the bunk room, he heard a gasp and hitch in breathing, followed by a shift in rhythm indicating waking.   
  


He settled back against his pillow, keeping his own breathing slow and steady. Her breathing slowed, and sheets rustled as she roused and slipped from the far bunk. Squinting at the chrono by his head, he gave her five minutes before following.   
  


Glancing around the ring corridor, he chose to go the long way round, assuming she’d be in the lounge. Swinging in to the cockpit to check flight status and buy a few more minutes, he was surprised to find her curled up in the copilot’s seat, knees drawn up to her chin, disheveled hair making her look very young.   
  


He often forgot just how young she was. Nothing about her was like any twenty year old he’d ever known. Certainly nothing like himself at twenty.   
  


“Hey.”   
  


She swung the chair around a bit to face him, eyes widening a little. “What are you doing up?”   
  


“Checking on my ship. What are you doing up and in the copilot seat?” He swiveled the pilot’s chair to face her and dropped into it.    
  


She regarded him for a moment, and he could see the quip almost make it to her lips before dying of exhaustion, and she dropped her gaze to the deckplates. “I couldn’t sleep.”   
  


As she twisted to gaze out into the swirl of hyperspace, his eyes stayed on her face. In the blue glow, her eyes were abyss-dark, frighteningly deep.    
  


He usually tried to avoid the deep.   
  


Running a hand through his already-tousled hair, his eye flickered out to the marbled starlight before returning to her face. “Bunk not up to royal standards?”   
  


That was enough to draw a faint huff and a hint of a smile from her, and her eyes flicked back to meet his for just a moment. “It’s perfectly adequate. But I haven’t slept well on a starship since….”   
  


“Ah. Well.” He ran his hand through his hair again, unsure how to respond. “D’you want a drink, or…?”   
  


He would want a drink. He might want one now. Beginning to slide out of the chair to get just that, he froze at the whisper of her voice.   
  


“Or.”   
  


With a creak of worn nerfhide, he settled back into his seat. “Okay.” Then he remained silent, waiting.    
  


After a small eternity, she spoke, softly, nearly inaudible over the hyperdrive hum. “The air on Serensk smelled like home. Like Antibes on a summer evening.”   
  


“Yeah?” In the time since he’d met her, never had he heard her speak of home.   
  


“They say smell is the strongest memory trigger. Maybe they’re right.” She shrugged, gazed silently out the viewscreen for another moment. “I never expected it to hit me on a mission like that.”    
  


“Was it that flowery smell?”   
  


Shaking her head a little, “No, not really. Maybe the way it carried on the warm air like honeyflower did. But mostly that brackish smell, not quite the sea, you know?”   
  


He hummed an agreement. Quiet, as she was being, riveted.    
  


“My palace was on the top of the cliffs, right where the Auron river met the sea, before the harbor proper. I loved sitting out on the balcony at night with a cup of tea, listening to the water against the rocks.”   
  


“Sounds peaceful.” Any other time he would have commented on ‘ _ my palace _ ’ but now merely filed the information away, curious.   
  


“It was the most peaceful place in the galaxy. I don’t think I truly appreciated it then.”   
  


“I’m sure you didn’t.”   
  


Her head snapped around then, face full of wounded confusion.   
  


“Easy.” He put out a hand like she was a startled animal, almost but not quite touching her knee. “I just meant nobody ever does, in the moment.”   
  


After a long moment, she tipped her head in the faintest of nods. “I think you’re right.” She truly looked at him then, dark eyes soft, and leaning towards him almost imperceptibly. He probably wouldn’t have noticed if her knee hadn’t brushed the hand he’d been trying so hard not to touch her with.   
  


Their gazes held for a long moment, and it felt like something tectonic shifting.Then she cleared her throat and looked back out to the stars.   
  


“You sure you don’t want a cuppa tea? I might have some of that fruity stuff you like left over from that last run to Almont.”   
  


“Actually, that would be very nice.”   
  


He patted her knee lightly as he rose from the chair. “Any time, Princess.”   
  


A faint smile had made its way back to her lips as he left the cockpit.

  
*


	3. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involves some discussion of torture. It's not excessive, and focuses mainly on the after effects. If that is not for you, please feel free to proceed to Ch4.

The light tracery of fingers on her back eased her into consciousness. It astonished her that it was easy; a week ago, being awakened by a touch in the darkness would have sent her into a blind panic. Now it was a gentle surprise; it made her feel warm and safe in a way she hadn’t for years, and she took a moment to simply enjoy the feeling.  


It was dim and she was on her stomach, hair blocking her view of him. She turned her head, just enough to catch him out of the corner of her eye, let him know she was awake. There was a bright flash of a smile, white teeth flashing in the low light.  


Fingers continued trailing along her back, the pressure increasing fractionally now that he knew she was awake. As they slid across the base of her neck, she gasped suddenly, body going taut with pain.  


“Leia?!” His hands were off her, air abruptly cool against her skin.  


“It’s okay--it’s just--” she fumbled for words, fighting the lingering pain sparking down her nerves, struggling to find a way to explain to him.  


“This is from what they did to you?” His voice was steady but there was a simmer of range under it.  


Maybe she wouldn’t have to explain much after all. Maybe he would understand.  


She rolled on her side, facing him, and nodded. Caught her breath, and reached out for his hand, twisting her fingers with his.  


He have a little squeeze, tentative and careful, and slid back down into the bunk, facing her. He said nothing, patient, but touching her no further than the hand she’d offered.  


After a long deep breath, she ventured, “There are a few spots, along my spine. Where they injected nerve agents. Usually it’s fine. But sometimes--randomly--the pain just radiates on it’s own. Sometimes it’s just touching the spot--wrong. I hit that one all the time doing my hair.”  


She paused, tried to get her rambling under control with another slow, deep breath. It seemed to calm the tremor that had crept into her voice, as she managed to continue. “I don’t even know if there are scars, I can’t see….”  


Rising up on an elbow, he used their linked hands to pull her towards him, back onto her stomach. Gently, he brushed her hair aside, then rested his hands on either side of her body. “D’you know about where? Besides that spot on your neck?”  


“About halfway down, either side of my spine. Level with my heart. And the bottom of my back, above the sacrum.”  


His hands were warm on her sides and she could feel his breath hot on her back as he studied the sports she’d mentioned. Tentatively, one finger trailed along her spine, lightly, as he’d been touching her when she’d awakened.  


“I don’t see anything.”  


“It’s all right. I’ve gotten used to it.”  


His hand came to rest, warm, on her lower back. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”  


She shrugged, then twisted her head to catch his eye. “You will. Between those hypersensitive spots and the ones I can’t feel, I hurt myself all the time.”  


“The ones you can’t--?”  


She bit her lip, having revealed a bit more than she’d intended. But he probably needed to know, deserved to know, if she was sharing her body with him like this. After a moment, she rolled onto her side facing him again.  


“My memories of it are kind of jumbled. But the hypersensitive spots were the injection sites. Then whatever they injected me with did it’s work, or didn’t work, I guess, because they never got what they wanted from me--”  


His hand caught hers as it fluttered between them, a gentle reassurance for her nerves. But he said nothing, just listened. Even in the dark, she couldn’t meet his eyes, had to close hers to continue. She’d been half-delirious when she’d told medical what happened, had desperately avoided discussing it since treatment.  


“It felt like being electrocuted. I could feel it traveling through me, burning. When it faded, everything felt numb for a while. Some things never stopped feeling numb, and we didn’t have a lot of treatment options on Yavin.”  


His fingers slid through hers, ran up her arm, delicate. “You coulda gone somewhere else. I’d’ve taken you.”  


She shook her head against the pillow. “It was too risky. You’re not the only one in this bed with a price on their head.”  


“Yeah but it’s—“  


“One day, maybe. But it’s nothing I can’t live with.”  


As she paused, gathering herself together, his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Still saying nothing, just warm and safe and still touching her.  


Choosing her words precisely, she continued. “I watched everything and everyone I love be obliterated. For so long I had to stop feeling just to survive. It was all just too much. Now though, now I want to feel, want this. And I refuse to let them take this from me, too.”  


His kiss surprised her, not in its action but in its gentleness. “You can feel that right?” His eyes were so deep she could drown in them, holding more meaning than his simple kiss.  


“Yes.”  


“Well then,” he kissed her again, just at the left corner of her lips, “I’ll just have to perform a very thorough examination and make sure I’m lavishing attention in all the right places.”  


His eyes twinkled as his lips slid down her throat, not missing an millimeter.

*


	4. Escape II

It had been too noisy for conversation on the skiff, adrenaline making everyone a little jittery and sand whipping around them. Han had put up a good front, been stoic as always until their group split up, boarding their respective ships. She’d kept close to him as they boarded the Falcon, and he’d slumped against her as the ramp closed.   
  


“I don’t think I can fly yet.”   
  


“You’re not going to. Chewie and Lando will get us out of here. You’re coming to the cabin with me.”    
  


She tried not to be astonished when he assented without protest or innuendo, allowing her to guide him through his own ship. As soon as the cabin door shut behind them, he turned, arms surrounding around her.   
  


“I’m so happy to have you back.” It came out before she could stop it. Emotions had felt closer to the surface while he’d been gone, bubbling too close. “Now sit down on the bunk and let me take care of you before you pass out.”   
  


“I’m fine. Or--” he shook his head, “I’ll be fine. You should get out of that damn thing before you worry about me.”   
  


“It’s--no, Han, we were supposed to start treatment for you immediately for the carbonite toxicity, and it’s been over a day since you were released from the carbonite--”   
  


“What’s another couple minutes then? You shouldn’t have to wear anything like  _ that-- _ ”   
  


She allowed herself to rest her forehead against his sternum, long enough to take a deep breath, feeling the tears pooling behind her eyes and his hands warm on her bare waist. “I don’t want to wear it for another second.”   
  


His lips pressed against the top of her head. “Then get it off. I’ll even be a good patient and lay down quietly while you do.”   
  


“Here, then.” She guided him until the backs of his knees were just touching the bunk, and helped him to sit. “Lay down. I’ll be quick.”   
  


But it wasn’t quick, or easy. The clasps were impossible for her to undo herself, and after several failures, she huffed in frustration. “Han, I need your help. I know you can’t see, but I can barely reach and don’t have any leverage. If I put your hands on the clasps, can you get me out of this?”   
  


“Absolutely.”   
  


Turning around, she sat on the edge of the bed and reached behind her for his hand, guiding it to the clasp at the back of the top. He fumbled for a moment, getting a feel of the uncooperative mechanism, then a squeal of metal announced her freedom.   
  


The metal top fell to the cabin floor with a clatter, but before she could move away, she felt his hand warm on her back, just where the clasp had been, and took a deep breath. “Thank you. Now give me just a minute, and I’ll take care of you.”   
  


The bottom proved much easier work. It felt so good to change into her own clothing that she took a moment to breathe deeply and savor the feeling before retrieving the bag of medical supplies she’d brought for him.   
  


“Better?”   
  


“Much. Now, I’ve got some medication for you that should bond with the carbonite and help flush if from your system. Medics warned me that the side effects might not be pleasant, but not as bad as the symptoms you probably experienced without it last night.”    
  


He groaned, shook his head, but didn’t protest as she put the infuser against his bicep.   
  


“To go along with that, there are IV fluids to help with dehydration. They said you should be feeling almost normal by morning. Your eyes are giving your problems from disuse, not the carbon, so the drops and a good night’s sleep should help.”   
  


“You gonna help me get a good night’s sleep?”   
  


“I need a good night’s sleep, too. Now hold your arm still while I put this in.”   
  


“Leia, you okay?” His fingers caught hers before she could get close with the IV. One squeeze then back to her primary mission, getting him taken care of.   
  


“I’m fine. Jabba wanted to humiliate me, not hurt me. At least not right away.” It was a hurt she could live with, a small price to pay for having him back.    
  


“Open your eyes just a second, then once you feel the drops, you need to keep them closed for five minutes.”   
  


“If he wasn’t already blown into a million pieces, I’d want to find his carcass just to blast it a few times. Make sure he’s good and dead.”   
  


“He’s definitely good and dead. I made sure of that.”   
  


“You? Leia!” Awe lit his face, making him look healthier than she’d seen him since their arrival on Bespin.   
  


“Ask me about it again when you’re feeling better.” She picked up his hand, kissed him lightly on the knuckles.   
  


“It might make me feel better now.” His hand twisted in hers, twining their fingers together, giving a little tug closer. “Aren’t you tired too? Lay down with me, tell me your story, Princess.” His voice was drowsy, at the edge of slumber, and irresistible.   
  


Carefully, she slid into the bunk next to him, wrapping herself around him while avoiding the IV line in his arm. It felt good to take time just to be, appreciate the feel of him against her. Alive.   
  


“He had me dressed in-- _ that- _ -and chained to his throne. I think the decision to go out to the sarlaac was as much to goad me as it was to torture you and Luke. He wanted me forced to watch.” Under her palm, she could feel his heart rate increasing, but his breath evening out. The details might have made him angry, but he already knew how this ended. “When chaos broke out, I took my opportunity. I used the damned chain he bound me with. Wrapped it right around his neck and pulled til I thought my hands were going to bleed. His tongue was thrashing and his eyes were bugging out and it was one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever done.”   
  


“Have I told you that I love you?”   
  


“Not today.” He hadn’t, not since Bespin. It hadn’t bothered her; they’d had no time for more than survival in the past day. But hearing him say it would never get old, she hoped, never stop sending that little thrill down her spine.   
  


“You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”    
  


Their lips met with restrained passion; both were exhausted, and she dropped her head back down onto his shoulder as they separated.   
  


“Would you think less of me if I fell asleep right now?”   
  


“No, because I’ve been looking forward to sleeping with you for the past six months.”   
  


“Not quite like this, I’m guessing.”   
  


“Honestly, there were days when this was more than I could believe would be possible.”   
  


She felt him kiss the top of her head, then take a deep breath and sink back into the pillows. For a long time, she stayed awake, just appr eciating the feel of him as he slept.

 

*


	5. Aftermath

Fires were burning low, and singing had faded away to murmured conversation and laughter as Alliance personnel began to find their way to a bed for the night, to sleep off exhaustion, adrenaline, and alcohol.  By mutual assent they headed not to the Ewok hut they’d spent the prior night in, but back to the Falcon.    
  


As the ramp closed behind them, leaving them truly alone for the first time all day, she nearly collapsed back against him. Without a thought, his arms surrounded her, pulling her against him, supportive.   
  


“You okay?”   
  


Shaking her head, she turned in his arms, wrapping her own tightly around him. “No.”   
  


Simple, clear, terrifyingly un-Leia-like. As were the hitching breaths her could feel against his own chest.     
  


“This about what happened with Luke last night?”     
  


“Yes.”     
  


“Then let’s at least go to the lounge. I have a feeling this isn’t the kind of conversation you want to have in the gangway.”   
  


“No,” she said with another shake of her head. Her whole body, actually, shaking against him. That worried him more than the monosyllabic answers; he’d had plenty of that from her in the past after he’d done something bantha-headed.   
  


Carefully, he pulled back from her, keeping an arm around her and turning them both down the ring corridor of the ship. “You want anything to drink? Kaffe, tea, more alcohol?” He had the feeling it might be the kind of conversation that felt like it required alcohol even if sobriety was really the better idea.   
  


“No...yes. Dekaffe?”   
  


“Sure.” He settled her at the table before stepping away from her side, and then only the three steps to the galley’s kaffe machine.    
  


When he returned to the table with two mugs, she took hers with a wavering smile, one that barely concealed her inclination to crying. He slid in to sit close, thigh pressing warm against hers, and she sidled closer, arm brushing his.   
  


“What’s going on, Leia? You already told me Luke’s your brother, so this ain’t about that.”   
  


One nail tapped against the thick ceramic of the mug as her brow furrowed and her lips struggled to form words. “It is, though. You didn’t ask how we knew that, or….”   
  


With a shrug and a smile, he tried to reassure her. “Seemed incidental to the fact at the time. I’m guessing he’s not some long-lost Organa, from how upset this has got you.”   
  


“Oh how I wish that were the case,” she huffed out with a sad chuckle. Before continuing, she took a deep breath. “You know I was adopted by the Organas?”   
  


His brows rose of their own accord before he could control them. “No, I didn’t.”   
  


“I knew, from the time I was a child. It wasn’t really a secret, but it wasn’t something that was ever discussed. Even when I asked. My mother always just said that my father had brought me home after the Clone Wars. My father….” she paused, took a long slow sip of the kaffe. He said nothing, merely ran a reassuring hand up and down her arm.    
  


He hoped it was reassuring.   
  


“My  _ father _ reiterated that I was a war orphan he’d found. Once. Whenever I would ask for more information—what world, what battle—or even to just confirm that story again, he refused to say more. Completely shut down that conversation. And he  _ never _ shrunk away from difficult conversations with me. He told me about the Jedi, about the purges, about the Emperor when he was in the Senate, gave me banned history texts and holos….”   
  


Tears were threatening in her eyes as she cast a glance in his direction, before refocusing on her mug. “I think I always knew there was more to the story, understood that he knew much more than he felt safe telling me. And that was a little scary, once I realized it. He was a brave man—he started a rebellion but couldn’t tell me  _ that _ . I’d like to believe he’d have told me one day, when he thought I could handle it but now, now I’m not so sure—“   
  


He wrapped an arm around her shoulders then as tears did start trailing down her face, kissed the top of her head softly. “You found out something about where you and Luke came from, and you’re not sure you can handle it?”   
  


She nodded, unspeaking.     
  


“Your parents?” He guessed, in a whisper that seemed loud in the quiet of the ship.   
  


“Our  _ father _ ,” she answered, her voice cracking on the final syllable.    
  


There were only two possibilities that could have her so upset at this moment, neither of which seemed cause for distress to him--both were dead, irrelevant to their future. So he remained quiet, watched the play of emotions across her face, as she struggled to find the words.   
  


“Our father is Vader.” Choked out in one gasping sentence, eyes closed, knuckles white around the mug.   
  


Giving her shoulder a squeeze, he corrected, “Was. He’s gone, Leia. Whatever he was, he’s dead and gone.”   
  


She took a long, shuddering breath. “I wish I could take some comfort in that right now. But all I can think of is that my father was standing behind me while my whole world was destroyed. Was responsible for having me tortured. Tortured and nearly killed you. My  _ father _ \--” Hyperventilation pulled her up, ragged breaths catching in her throat, devolving into gasping sobs.   
  


He shifted on the bench and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her, mindful of the blaster wound on her left arm. One hand slipped through the length of her hair as it tangled around them.     
  


After regaining some regularity to her breathing, she twisted he face up to him, tears still spilling down her cheeks. “How are you so calm?” Begging for the secret.   
  


“Can’t say I’m calm, really. Angry on your behalf more like. But it was as true a week ago as it is today, and you’re still the same woman you were.  _ You _ haven’t changed.” He shrugged and kissed the crown of her head. “Besides, if I can say I got no father because I don’t know who he was, seems by that logic the only father you got is Bail Organa.”   
  


“I feel,” was an unusual declaration for her, and she had to take a breath and start again, “I feel like I was betrayed by both of them. I loved him and he…he knew. He had to know.”   
  


“He wanted to protect you. You were a kid.”   
  


“I was not always a kid. I was a member of the Imperial Senate and--”   
  


“In his place, would  _ you _ have told you? Would you have been safe in the Senate, knowing that? Would you have wanted to know, before the Death Star?” It came out harsher than he’d intended it to be, and he tried to soften the words with a gentle squeeze around her shoulders.   
  


“I’m so glad I didn’t know then,” she gasped. “If I’d known, if he’d been able to pull that from my head...I don’t think he’d have just slated me for execution.”   
  


He could do nothing more than hold her safe in his arms as she continued, “He’d have destroyed me.”    
  


“Nah, sweetheart. Even after what he did do to you, you marched outta that cell like you ran that space station. You’re too strong for him to destroy.”   
  


Clinging to him tightly, her face was muffled by his shirt. “It feels like he’s still trying to destroy me.”   
  


“So be your normal stubborn-as-a-bantha self and decide he’s not going to.” His smile carried into his voice, and she looked up at him with a wavery smile of her own.   
  


Tilted her head and captured his lips with his own, firm, full of conviction. “This conversation didn’t go at all like I thought it would. Thank you.”   
  


He returned her kiss with one of his own, gentler. “What’d you expect?”   
  


“A lot more yelling. And obscenities. You’re not really the calm, cool, and collected type. And I was worried….”   
  


“You don’t need to worry ‘bout me, you know I’ve always got your back.” He kissed her again, longer, lingering. “Figured you’re the one who needs to do the cursing and yelling right now.”   
  


“I think any anger was vented during the fighting today. Now I’m just a teary mess.”   
  


His thumbs brushed across her cheeks, catching the tears still trailing down them. “You’re entitled. And you’re probably exhausted. I know you tossed and turned all night last night.”   
  


She took a long breath and rested her temple on the curve of his shoulder. “Can we go to bed?”   
  


“‘Course.” He tipped his head, kissed her temple. “C’mon. Let’s get some sleep.”   
  


Carefully he extricated himself from their tangle of limbs, then stood and offered her his hand. She took it and pulled herself close to him, tucking in under his arm as she rose. Her arm snaked around his waist, holding him tight as they made their way to their cabin.

 

*


End file.
